Adventures of a Supernatural College Student
by Chucklebot3000
Summary: Romeo Romano never really saw himself as the hero of his own story. More of a background character really. After being ripped from the halls of his dorm building into the oceanic world of One Piece, however, he may just begin to change his tune. An adventure is calling to him from just beyond the waves, but will he accept the call? Can he even survive day 1? Rated T, for now.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Thank you for clicking today! Go ahead and curl up, get cozy, and try to enjoy the little tale I'm trying to spin.**

So… I've had a weird day...

Let's start off with an introduction. My name is Romeo. Romeo Versace Romano. I'm 20 years old, I was in my second year of general studies in college, I'm single, I don't have a lot of close friends, I and came from a family where I was the only child.

I know, I seem like a normal person, and I am... I think. But strange things have been happening to me lately. Strange, incomprehensible things. Things that I was far from ready for.

Let's start with the day that I was sent to the world of One Piece. Usually, when a person is sent to another world, they have some sort of direction on where to go, what to do, and are almost _always _given an overpowered ability to help them find their way through the unfamiliar world. That's just the Isekai genre for you. Well for me? Apparently, _someone _didn't get the memo. All I was met with was sheer. Deafening. Silence.

No one thought to tell me what was happening. No voice told me what to do, I was just plucked from the hall outside my dorm, then warped a whole universe away from the life I built into a whole new dimension.

And Hoo _boy_ is it a weird dimension to be in.

Let me start out with a little background on my current predicament. In the year 1999, a young Japanese comic book artist (Or Mangaka) Named Eiichiro Oda began to write a story about a boy made of rubber searching the world for an epic treasure in a magazine called "Shonen Jump Weekly". The comic, or more properly "Manga" Was called One Piece, and it grew to be one of the most popular mainstream manga in Japan. It was so popular that it even managed to garner a fan base in foreign countries through the translated versions of the manga and anime.

Apparently, the world of One Piece isn't just an idea made by an insanely creative man. It is also a place that you can visit (assuming that you have it within your means )And I was just the sop unlucky enough to be dumped there.

-0-0-0-

One morning, when I woke up early to head to the dining hall for some breakfast, I was assaulted with this… _presence_, I guess the word would be. It was similar to that prickling sensation you get when you feel like you're being watched, only it was so intense it felt like someone sent a colony of ants to trample along my spine. I reacted, to it I think, but I was so overridden with adrenaline that what happened next is just an incomprehensible blur of blinding colors and unfamiliar sensations that blended into an incomprehensible mess...

Next thing I know? Boom.

I'm not in Colorado Springs anymore.

I regained my coherency to find myself resting on a hardwood bench in a room filled with paintings, flintlock pistols, swords, cannons, and many, many other artifacts that were securely mounted out of reach, or safely sealed behind reinforced glass cases. I sat there breathing deeply for a few seconds trying to regain my composure. Anxious though I was, I almost felt normal.

And then I heard it. _Bells_. The sound of a clock tower hitting noon.

_**Gong**_

…

_**Gong**_

…

_**Gong **_

The ambient sound of people swelled through my brain overriding all my panicked thoughts. Even though I could only see the empty exhibit, what I heard was the sound of a crowd of people surrounding me. Each person's muttering overridden the other's making it impossible to make out more than a handful of words.

"_They really caught-"_

"_Is that actually?-"_

And then, a hush fell over the people.

_**Step...**_

_**Step...**_

_**Step…**_

_**Step...**_

Someone was climbing a set of stairs, each echoing step was accompanied by the jingle of chains.

And then, someone spoke. A man with a powerful yet scratchy voice. Even though what he said was essentially a whisper, it echoed over the mob like the boom of a cannon.

_**Step… **_

"_Destiny.." _He began

_**Step…**_

_**Step...**_

"_Fate…"_

_**Step…**_

_**Step...**_

"_Dreams…"_

And then he stopped. He had reached the top.

"_As long as there are people that seek freedom in this life, these things shall not vanish from the earth."_

There was the sound of weapons shifting nervously in someone's hands.

Another voice, while authoritative, sounded nervous and juvenile next to the man in question.

"Do you have any final words to say?"

A pause,

"_Would you mind taking these off? They are beginning to chafe, you know."_

"N-no, I won't do that."

"_What? Where am I going to run?... Eh..."_

I could hear the rustle of clothes, and the rattle of chains as the man sat down.

"_That's all right. I guess that I'm on my own for this one..."_

I heard a nervous gulp from one of the soldiers.

"_*Sigh* Well alright, let's get this over with." _

The sound of blades being shifted into position.

Silence, then the spell that seemed to fall over the crowd was broken by one small voice that echoed over the crowd,

"HEY! PIRATE KING! TELL US WHERE YOU PUT YOUR TREASURE! IS IT IN THE GRAND LINE OR SOMETHING?!"

"You there! Shut up!" The voice of a soldier interrupted him, but an excited muttering began to fill the air with questions similar to the first man.

"YOU FOUND IT DIDN'T YOU?! THE LEGENDARY TREASURE! WHERE DID YOU PUT IT? WHERE DID YOU HIDE **ONE PIECE**?!"

I jumped in my seat, the implications beginning to whir through my head as the clouds in my brain began to clear,

Silence fell over the crowd again, the atmosphere thick with some heavy emotion that couldn't be put into words.

"_Heh… Heh Heh... AH! HA! HA! HA! HA! You want my treasure?!"_

"Hey, shut it-"

"_You can have it! I left it all in that one place, now all there is left to do is find it!"_

_**SHLOCK!**_

The wet sound of blades piercing through something echoed through the air for what felt like minutes.

More silence, as the implication of his final words began to fill the minds of everyone who heard him speak, then-

"**YEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!-"**

A _deafening_ roar filled my ears whoops of joy, excitement, and cheer invaded the environment with an electric atmosphere like nothing I've ever felt before.

The call to adventure had been sent via the lips of a dead man, and the way they echoed across the globe spurred the birth of a new age.

**-0-0-0-**

I was frozen on my bench. The final words of Gol D. Roger echoing around in my skull like the ringing of a gong. _What the hell was that? Only a few minutes ago, I had left my dorm to get breakfast, then something happened, there were those voices in my head, and now I'm in_\- I looked around.

"A museum? _What..."_

It was a cavernous Marble building that looked like it could rival the Louvre in size. It was generously lit by the sunlight streaming in from a glass-domed roof that looked like it spanned at least a half-mile

I was too spaced out to notice at first, but I wasn't the only one there either. Crowds of people ranging from couples on dates to field trips of young students milled about paying me no mind. Weapons of historically important pirates and soldiers weren't the only thing there, there were also plaques lining colorful exhibits showing artistic renderings of battles, truces, and islands before _and _after duels between factions. Models of famous ships of all sizes filled an area that was lit with rippling blue light creating the illusion of them still sailing. Sepia tone photographs and bounties lined the walls detailing colorfully dressed men and women with a king's ransom worth in bounties underneath their snarling faces. Old uniforms adorned mannequins that once belonged to the Marines of past eras lining a corridor to my left. I turned to the right to see life-sized wax figures of important people that had to be at least 8 feet tall. Above me hung the fossilized skeletons of _titanic_ sea creatures that once would have been able to bite a megalodon in half from reinforced scaffolding along the ceiling (The biggest stretched around the entire length of the complex three times) I read the plaque with a picture of the whole skeleton next to the silhouette of a galleon for scale. It read:

"_The remains of the ancient sea king ''Mouk". In life, it weighed 60,000 tons, and its natural length from nose to tail was 9,600 Meters. In the time when Mouk still prowled the West Blue, it's diet consisted of island whales, merchant vessels, and entire schools of titan tuna, until it met its end by the crew of the Oro Jackson, who killed him, then proceeded to eat the end of its tail for the celebration feast celebrating their accomplishment of sailing across the world through the Grand Line. The legendary crew then sold the remaining meat to the nearby commercial fishing village Furusato where it was packaged into enough Sea King Meat tins to still be able to find a sample at a local grocery store today. Its bones were eventually recovered by the East Blue History preservation guild- a feat that required 13 clipper sized vessels to deliver. Here in the museum, they were carefully arranged, assembled and mounted for display over the course of 3 years. Records of Mouk haunting the West Blue have been found dating back over 480 years,_(There were grainy pictures depicting ships that had been bitten in half, photographs that were only able to capture the enormous fins of the creature, and even one that was only able to show an impossibly wide mouth filled with _way_ too many rows of jagged teeth to count. Each one had decreased in quality until there were only detailed drawings of a terrifying hybrid between a coelacanth, an eel and a goblin shark with wide, red, haunting fish eyes.) The plaque continued_, "Deep analysis of its bones have shown it to be at least a century older, however._

_Reports of Sea king attacks with similarity to Mouk are still being sent out to this day, though none have been confirmed to be related to the legendary monster, or it's brood. "_

"Is this a dream?" I breathed out in quiet shock. I continued to wander the museum in a sort of numb awe reading through the comically badass feats of the pirates of Roger's crew, and seeing the proof of the past with my very own eyes.

Blending in with the crowd surprisingly easy, as everyone else had similar expressions to me walking through the history of the most legendary man to sail across the world. (Though everyone else had significantly less existential terror written across their faces.)

_Is this really One Piece's world, though?_ I wondered, _If the world government is a dominating force in this place as well, then would it really allow a museum with this much information about the Pirate King to exist? Surely, a world Noble would have collected most of Roger's artifacts as a sort of victory prize to display over their swimming pool-sized bathrooms by now…_

And sure enough, it turned out that this section of the museum _wasn't _meant to display the history of pirates. In reality, it's purpose was meant to show the glory of the marines that caught them. The more that I read plaques detailing the feats of the past's pirates, I realized how most of their feats were minimized, and how their personal flaws were being put to the forefront of their miniature dossiers (Which is understandable as most of the pirates from that era were recorded to be thieves, murderers, and morally corrupt bastards by default).

While Pirates were given exhibits, _all_ of them showed the name of the Marine who ended up catching them at one point or another with Roger supposedly being the exception. Further along, I could also see even grander displays and exhibits showing artifacts from the Admirals of the past in well designed, gloriously lit parts of the building that practically screamed, " _Look at me, I'm what you're here to see!"_

I guess that in the end, the only reason why the museum was even allowed to display artifacts from Roger, his crew, and other relevant Pirates from that time was to act as a sort of propaganda machine for the Marines of this world. "_Look at them, they were really dangerous and powerful, huh? Well, guess what? The Marines are even stronger! We took them down to make the world safer, and __you can too!_"

Every exhibit seemed to have subtext similar to that silently screaming into my ear throughout my stunned tour throughout the facility. It became abundantly clear that this portion of the museum was a sort of recruitment machine for the military force of this world, and if the awed whispers of the kids on a field trip were anything to go by, it was an effective one as well.

The museum was too big to solely be occupied by pirate history however, it bled into the history of the colonization of settlements all across the four main oceans, the political climate created by the World Nobles (Heavily edited to make them look like saints, of course), An art gallery filled with masterpieces the likes of which I've never seen (My favorite was a renaissance-esque still life depiction of the winged people of a sky island simply milling about in their day-to-day activities.)

The halls of the museum continued to branch out into exhibits that proudly chronicled the progression of many cultures across the world over the centuries, some even held blurbs about settlements found in the Grand Line, though most of it was conjecture, rumor, and interviews that were written down from… _Transponder snail calls. Huh, those are actually a thing_… with civilians that lived in the many populated islands that existed there. It was pretty neat to see a globe of this world in person as well, showing the grand line essentially spanning the entire circumference of the planet from east to west like the equator, while the red line, an unfathomably tall formation of plateaus, and mountains spun all the way around from north to south, though the grand line was drawn as a sort of blank blue smear since no one has managed to accurately document the geography of the ocean to date.

Apparently, the cost to commission the transportation of historical artifacts from the Grand Line was too expensive for the Historical guild to pay as well. (The presence of absurdly strong pirates dominating that ocean made it a nearly impossible endeavor without risking the crew's lives, and the cargo being stolen on the way over) so the curators of the museum just filled that exhibit with large photographs that had been sent over, plaques with generic information about the few documented islands, and far too many propaganda ridden blurbs about marines that patrolled the impossibly dangerous ocean. It was easily the smallest exhibit I passed through, mainly serving as a warning for people to avoid the ocean more than anything else.

_Well, I know that this isn't a prank, because it would be the most expensive prank in the history of man… I know that I'm not asleep, because everything is too vivid, and I would've woken up by now if this was a lucid dream… _I passed by a greasy man wearing a tri-corner hat who forgot to shower today… and the week before that… and the week before that.

_*GAK* ugh_. _Yep, can't imagine BO like that even in my nightmares… So… What should I do now? _

Wiping my burning nostrils on my sleeve to clear the scent out of my nose, I checked my pockets. Everything I slipped into my jeans before I left my room that morning was still there. My cracked phone (I tapped the on button) It had 50% battery, no signal(obviously), and nothing really useful on it to help me out right now. My wallet, which contained my Driver's license, debit, credit, gift cards left over from Christmas (no cash, I always forget to carry some on me.) and my car keys (useless) I was wearing my most comfortable clothes: the one pair of jeans that fit me perfectly (which is hard to find at the local clothing depot when you're 6'5" and skinny.) A pair of red Adidas sneakers, a flannel jacket, a soft vintage Star Wars T-shirt, which had the retro design of a TIE fighter on it, and finally the watch that my dad gave to me on my first day of college. So in short, I had nothing useful at all… In an insanely dangerous world overrun with piracy and corruption.

_..._

I stood there for a moment with a small smile on my face, as I silently screamed into the uncaring void.

Despite the atomic level internal freakout I was currently having, I still see myself as something of an optimist, holding on to the small miracle that whatever brought me to this dimension brought me here _after_ I put on my glasses, otherwise I would have to find my way through another dimension half-blind on top of everything else.

_Small miracles,_ y'know?

_So… I have no local currency, no means of defending myself, no idea what year it is, no shelter, no references, no skills in sailing, and no clue on the current progression of the main plot… So what __do_ _I have? _I continued to leisurely stroll through the cavernous marble halls of the museum, weaving through the patrons as if I had somewhere to be until I reached the point where I first arrived at the museum. Gol D. Roger's exhibit. Lined with replicas of his weapons his trademark red coat, and of course pictures of the platoon in charge of his capture and execution.

To my left, a couple was ogling a Buick sized model of the Oro Jackson in a glass case (for good reason, it was a stunning ship) and to my right was the wax figure of Roger's first mate "Dark king" Silvers Rayleigh, in his prime, long blonde hair and everything- holding a longsword at the ready with a menacing scowl.

The main event, however, was a wall-sized portrait of a picture taken at the exact moment of Roger's execution. Frozen in time I could see a tall man with shaggy black hair and a glorious handlebar mustache wearing a red captain's coat and an ear to ear grin. This was in spite of the fact that he was brutally stabbed clean through the chest by two men with spears. His eyes were hidden by the shadows of his bangs. He was on a tall wooden platform surrounded by a mob of people frozen mid celebration like it was New years eve. On either side of the wall were long naginata like polearms tucked behind reinforced glass cases. On a small plaque in front of the scene were these words:

Death of The Pirate King

_Taken 15 years ago by Photographer Crowell Dean at the moment of execution shortly after his capture at the hands of Vice Admiral Monkey D. Garp._

Wow. He's an actual person. I mean, I guess that it would be obvious, but from my perspective, I only saw him as a cartoon, but the actual flesh and blood _person _was a sight to behold even in the form of a picture. Even though he was being publicly executed like a common crook in front of a mob, he wore this smile filled with abundant savage joy. It was kind of chilling, actually, seeing a person like that at the moment of his death.

I read the plaque again. "-_taken 15 years ago…"_ Hang on… One Piece's story starts at the time when Luffy started sailing about looking for crew members. I think that the timeline said that was about 20 years after Roger's death, right? That means that I've got about 5 years (give or take) until the Straw Hats pass over reverse mountain into the Grand line right? Well, that is assuming if the story's canon is gospel to this reality... But I need to know where I am _on the planet._ Judging by the exhibits all across the museum, I _should _be in the East Blue which is supposed to be the weakest of the main four seas (In terms of the Pirates currently active) so I guess that I'm in a somewhat safe location…

...But that also raises a _ton _of other questions like: How closely does this dimension parallel the manga anyway? Why am I in a period where a 12-year-old Monkey D. Luffy is still supposedly running around his home island with his brothers? Is Gol D. Roger the only character that mimics the manga, furthermore- do the rest of the Strawhats, along with the canon and filler characters even exist here? Who else am I going to have to worry about? I know that there are more crews of pirates than what Oda chose to show the audience. Am I going to have to deal with those bastards too?

I rubbed my temples. Whatever questions I had, I couldn't find anything pertinent about my knowledge regarding the main plot within this museum. Even though this place held some useful information about the history of the East blue and its culture, it was still _drenched_ with propaganda and misinformation from corner to corner.

I locked eyes with one of the employees currently milling about the crowd. A man with… Purple hair? ( Is that natural or dyed?) dressed in a curator's uniform."Fitzroy" was the name scribbled on his nametag.

"Hey, sorry, silly question, but can you point me towards the exit?" I asked.

Fitzroy squinted at me for a second. While I wasn't the weirdest person in this area by a long shot (There was this one lady with a head _strongly_ resembling Stewie Griffin's) I was _just_ different enough from the rest to gain just a cursory look or two. Thankfully for the sake of my sanity, the people here strongly resemble people from my dimension- that is to say, they didn't look like 3d cartoons, even though they did sometimes have rather odd proportions.

"You can follow Mouk's skeleton to the end of his tail. It isn't far."

"Thank you very much."

"Thank _you_ for choosing to visit the Loguetown Museum of world history today! Kyokyokyo!"

I waved, then turned to walk in the direction he pointed, my eye twitching. If there was any doubt about me being in an alien dimension before, then hearing this kooky guy laugh was enough. I mean _seriously _how does one _instinctively_ laugh like that? Was baby Fitzroy giggling like that in his crib?

Waitaminute- Loguetown?

I followed Mouk's skeleton, (which was still terrifying beyond belief) to his massive tail fin that hovered over a tall set of glass doors.

I exited, ("Come again!") with a sticker that held a cartoon picture of Mouk's skeleton with its open jaws spewing out the words "Loguetown Museum of World History '' stuck onto my jacket by a bubbly woman greeting the patrons coming in and out.

The sun _agh- damn that's bright! _Nearly fried my eyes out as I walked out of the cool shadowy building into a bustling town with pale stone streets that reflected the sun into my eyes like a mirror. Sun-bleached buildings with pale yet colorful roofs built a European style towered above providing the only shade to be found, though none went over six floors. Marines in white uniforms patrolled up and down the streets with flintlock muskets slung over their shoulders...

I blinked heavily, rubbing my eyes from under my glasses. _Yep, still not waking up..._

The smell of the ocean town washed over me like a heavy blanket accompanied by the aroma of fried food and freshly caught fish filling my lungs. The air here was a lot cleaner than what I'm used to, which is nice, I guess... It isn't like these people have a lot of use for motor vehicles or any of the other millions of devices that emit industrial pollutants in this world. The loud hum of people chattering away accompanied by the occasional bell of a ship surrounded the town with a warm harbor-y vibe that I haven't been exposed to before in all my life. It was warm, intimate, yet the rough-looking pirate types swaggering through the streets added just a hint of danger and unpredictability. Sure marines were patrolling the streets, but in a way that almost made the sense of danger worse.

The island that Logue Town was built on curved up and down steeply making it hard to walk uphill. In a way, it was similar to the hills of San Francisco. The chaotic streets leading from the district I found myself flowed to the town's docks where I could see a wall of sailboats stretching for miles being loaded, prepared, and cast off by burly sailors of all types.

Shops, restaurants, and street vendors with a dizzying array of shapes and colors spanned the length of the street I was on alone. I could even see the occasional Fishman pass me by and- I did a double-take, _holy shit _that was a fishman. FISHMEN EXIST?! Damn, that's so cool...

_So… This is Logue town, huh? Yep, that sign over there says so. Not a bad place to set up at all, I suppose… It's the closest island to reverse mountain (_The most accessible entrance to the Grand Line_) The Strawhats pass through this town for supplies in the story for about a day, and I guess that would be a good opportunity to try and join them…_

I facepalmed. Wait, no, that's dumb. I have no skills applicable to sailing across this world's most dangerous ocean (I was mainly taking general studies classes in college to qualify for my desired major at that point), The straw hats would have to be idiots to hire some hapless schmuck with no real skills onto their crew. All I'd be able to do is scrub the deck, and eat a portion of their valuable rations. Luffy has a habit of picking the most ridiculously skilled individuals for his crew, and I doubt that saying," I'm from another dimension where you were all characters in a story." would go over very well would it?… Hell, would I even be able to remember One Piece's plot that long from now? I don't even remember the names of the supporting characters from the last comic I read that long ago!

I sighed, taking a seat on the long stone steps leading out of the museum. About 5 years, huh? In that amount of time, I should've graduated college, then earned my license as a registered nurse traveling across the country- well assuming things had gone according to plan. Will I even be able to remember One Piece's story that long from now? Hell, can I even _survive _here that long? As far as this place is concerned, I'm broke! Homeless too. This goes without mentioning that I don't have any references that I can use to get a job either…

I looked up. The sun was still high in the sky. I had a whole day ahead of me before I was left alone in the dark. No references? Well, everyone has to start somewhere. When My Ancestors immigrated to America to get a new life, I'm sure that they felt the same way. Unsure, lost, maybe even a little excited? My skin was tingling at the thought of it.

I'm sure that there are millions of people from where I came from that would kill for a chance to start over like this. I pretty much have a blank slate here. I have no debts (except maybe the cost of a museum entry ticket) no roots and no enemies here. All that I have is the clothes on my back, the skills learned from three years of working in soul-crushing customer service jobs, two years of college education in my brain, and obscure lore knowledge of this world that could only be gained from spending _way _too much time on Youtube.

I cracked my neck, stood up, and began to wander the winding streets of this wacky unfamiliar town, my eyes scanning for anything resembling a "Now hiring sign". No job? No home? Well, screw it, not a damn problem! I'll just work as hard as I can to build myself from the ground up all over again! Isn't that the American dream anyway? I'll build my own destiny, start from scratch, and maybe have a goddamn adventure! No time to feel sorry for myself, the proverbial fire had been lit under my ass, and now was the time to see what I was truly capable of!

" The journey of a thousand miles… Begins with a single step." I said to myself through a tentative smile as I truly began my first day in this strange world.

**A/N: That's the end of chapter one! My original draft of this story started with Romeo (Still unsure about the name) starting on an abandoned island with an amphibious Sea King and a beached submarine. It all felt a little too unsurvivable for the average joe, though, eventually, I couldn't figure out what to write next, so I decided to start over and give Romeo another chance on an easier difficulty setting instead. **

**Don't get me wrong, Romeo is still in a ton of danger, (Loguetown is a sort of pseudo pirate town.) but at least he's somewhat more in his element here.**

**Criticism is appreciated! If you have anything to add in terms of story structure, world, grammar, or character building that I missed, feel free to speak up.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey hey! You stuck around for chapter 2! That's great! Please enjoy~**

"_I'm hungry…" _My stomach had been growling non-stop ever since I started to patrol the grey cobbled streets of Logue town. In my shock and tentative excitement of finding myself in another world, I forgot that the reason I'd even gotten up in the morning was to get breakfast. That was several hours ago, so I could _feel _my ribs beginning to stick out underneath my shirt.

All across town, I could see street vendors serving deep-fried fish, seafood buns, and… _Takoyaki? I've never tried takoyaki before_… I always like trying new food, but my lack of funds would get me nowhere here.

Nothing on this street did any good towards helping my appetite. Just breathing in the heavenly smells was close to torture.

_I need to make some money and fast. I'm underweight, to begin with, and my metabolism won't let me survive that long without food._ I eyed a trash bin with a conspicuously half-eaten portion of fish and chips sticking out on top.

...I _don't want to risk catching a disease from eating the garbage here either… Also gross._

*CRASH!*

I flinched as I was sprayed with broken glass. A person had been thrown out the front window of a bar.

"What the…" I turned to the scene,

The man got up angrily, drawing out a flintlock pistol from the front of his pants, "Ye think you can throw a man out a window in the middle a his drink?!"

POW!

*_click_*

*GOoONG!~*

Before he could aim the second shot, a metal object flew out of the bar, beaning him upside the head. It caused the second shot to go wide, hitting nothing. Turns out that it was a wok… and it was still full of fried rice.

_Damn, even the restaurant staff are terrifying in this place…_

It was a detail that I had only just begun to notice, but almost all of the business owners in Loguetown seemed to be strapped in one way or another. Most of the street vendors selling groceries or pre-prepared food had long knives or flintlock pistols strapped to their waists. Although the shopkeepers I saw through glass doors didn't seem too imposing at first glance, there was almost always a shotgun or rifle of some kind propped up on a stand close enough for them to grab if necessary. Even the average civilians milling around the street doing their afternoon shopping seemed to have weapons on their person in one way or another.

Though apparently, these people are dangerous enough with just the stuff that they are cooking with...

_Isn't Loguetown supposed to be a fairly peaceful place?_ I wondered.

The gunner fell to the ground in a wet thud clutching his face. His clothes spattered with remnants of fried shrimp, vegetables and rice.

"That's what you get for insulting my ale… Bastard. You ever tried brewing good alcohol with the soggy shit that those traders bring in? I poured my soul into this batch and you _dare_ to call it piss?! _PISS?! _This is the work of an artisan! A culinary genius! And then...you _dared_ to pull a gun on me when I threw you out?! In front of _my bar?!_" An absolute bear of a man stomped out of the restaurant. He had the body of a man who loved food, and the scowl of a person who had dealt with this kind of customer far too often. His rusty hair had been pulled back into a loose ponytail that was only just beginning to grey at the temples. In his right hand, he held a flintlock pistol, his face was mottled red with anger. He plucked the man off the street by the collar, and shoved the pistol in his nose, "MY ALE IS THE NECTAR OF THE GODS! SAY IT, YOU DAMN PIRATE!"

The terrified,(now bleeding profusely from the head) Pirate, coughed. "Y-Yer Ale is the n-nectar of the… the gods."

"_You're goddamned right..."_ He growled, "EY! You there!" The brewer pointed at a marine who was frozen in shock at watching the whole scene, " Take this punk to wherever the hell you put the rest of his kind. I've got a window to replace." He dropped the gunner to fall bonelessly to the ground, slapped the pistol into a holster under his apron, plucked the now bloodstained wok off the road, then stomped back inside the bar, grumbling all the way.

The marine pulled a grey snail from his pocket that had the Marines' insignia stamped on its shell (_wow_, those things look even more bizarre in real life) "Patch me through to squad 10. Code 218, I repeat, code: 218. *sigh* Big Jon assaulted another pirate...(There was a voice I couldn't make out from the snail)… _No, _I'm not taking a testimony from him, I have to take the stupid criminal to a medic! (More garbled speech from the snail), The marine scowled, " I don't _care _if you're scared of him, we have to follow due process! Now get your ass down to Mainstreet!" He slapped a pair of handcuffs onto the injured pirate, then pulled him to his feet to drag him off in some direction, continuing to shout at the snail.

"H-holy shit…" That was brutal. I figured that this place was dangerous, but _Gunfights in the street? Ripping hot pans being thrown in people's faces? _What is the deal with Loguetown? It was shown to be a fairly nice place in the show…

...

Oh...OH! The show that takes place 5 years from now… I guess that things would get better sometime after Smoker rolled into town, but what kind of sugar-free bullshit could happen around here until then?

"*Sigh*, well, if I'm going to be working in any establishment, might as well be in one run by _that_ terrifying dude." At least until I can get my feet on the ground and start training myself up, or maybe start hunting for devil fruits.

I hope that they do on-the-spot hiring here… And that they don't review social security cards or birth certificates…

I took a step-*_crunch!_* "Hm?" a roll of paper had been blown down the street to find itself under my shoe. I picked it up but nearly dropped it once I saw the blood and fried rice clinging to it.

_Gross… Must've been dropped by that guy._

I gingerly pinched it between two fingers, shook the clumps off, then unraveled it. It seemed to be made out of some thick, rough material like animal hide or papyrus.

"...A map?" It detailed the geography of a horseshoe-shaped island that had an X near the top of its arch. In the bottom left corner of the paper, I saw the island's general location highlighted on the globe, and in the bottom right corner was the compass. There was a sketch of a sea serpent off to the eastern coast.

Over the island's beach, someone wrote in hasty, scratchy handwriting the words, "_Intruders beware_…"

I deadpanned, hold on...That guy was carrying a damn treasure map? And not just any treasure map, a true to life Goonies, "Hunt at your own peril" map full of enigmatic clues and warnings too.

I turned to the mess of rice that had made a near-perfect imprint of the pirate's body on the street. A few seagulls had flown over to pick at the soiled food.

Was that guy a navigator, or a captain of some crew?

My stomach groaned like a dying cow in protest.

_Right, food. Money. Need those. Probably doesn't matter anyway. Yoink._

I neatly folded the map, slipped it into my front pocket, then pushed my way into the bar.

First impressions of that mad lad's bar? Pretty cozy! The sign on the glass door leading in dubbed it the "King's Hall Tavern." The place was a fairly decent bar and grill type restaurant. Its sign had golden ivy wrapping around the letters of its name. The main serving area had a few thick, mahogany tables on the main floor. The sturdily built seats were lined with brass-studded red leather upholstery similar to thrones. It was a spacious enough place, but it was crammed to the doors with patrons drinking, talking, shouting, and even fighting in one case. The booths lining the edges of the seating area were filled with hunched over shiftier types talking in hushed voices.

A common theme among all of the guests there is that not even one of them gave a damn about the scene I just watched outside. Supposedly, stuff like that was common around here.

I eyed a person who was dunking a whole barrel of amber-colored booze down the throat of some hairy dude who had to be at least eleven feet tall.

_It seems a little early in the day to be drinking like that, but hey, pirate town._

"*-ULP GULP GULP* AHHH! I'm telling ya I don't even feel it! I can drink this stuff forever, and I won't even… even…_nneven,_"*_Whump* _ He slumped to the ground, out cold.

"Five barrels! It took five barrels, everyone!" The guy who was pouring the alcohol shouted. Wads of cash passed between the hands of onlookers, and the crowd surrounding him went back to nursing their own drinks.

"Welcome to King's Hall you lousy bastard!" I was greeted by the smiling face of a bulky dark-skinned man in an apron. Interestingly enough, he had pale green hair that he had styled into an afro. Comb and everything.

_...Lousy bastard? _

"It'll be about 2 hours until I can get you a seat!"

A drunken fighter socked his opponent across the jaw, sending him flying into a table. It subsequently fractured into splinters underneath his sudden weight.

"Erm...3 hours until I can get you a seat." His unnaturally wide grin seemed a little weaker at the statement.

"Oh, um….Actually, I'm here for a job. Hi, I'm Romeo." I held out my hand to shake.

He looked down his nose at me for a good two seconds," EY CARNE! WE GOT FRESH MEAT!" He ignored me to shout at a chef wearing sunglasses in the kitchen.

"JUST TELL THEM TO PUT IT IN BACK!"

"NO, NOT-ugh, WE HAVE A NEW EMPLOYEE!"

"Oh. SEND HIM TO TABLE 5, OUR OTHER NEW GUY GOT SHOT!"

"Sounds good. Here's an apron, and a notepad.-"

"Um-"

-"Numbers of the tables are labeled on those plaques. Kitchen is right there. (He pointed towards a saloon-style double door)

"Uh-"

"Take their orders, put the tickets on the wheel, and bring them their food once the line cook rings the bell. Oh! Make sure that they pay afterwards. The cooks need help in the back, so that's where I'll be. If you're confused about anything or need someone shot in the leg, let me know." He clapped me on the back and disappeared behind the double doors.

Wow, not two seconds, and I got the job.-wait, do they have employee benefits here? What do I get per hour? Hell, when do I even get paid? I DON'T HAVE A BANK ACCOUNT! _How_ do I get paid!?

I heard the voice of Jon come booming from behind the bar, "GET YOUR ASS TO WORK, ROOKIE!"

"Yessir!" I squeaked. That dude had one _hell_ of a voice. He could drown out everyone else in the bar like it was nothing.

I slipped the apron around my waist, and rushed over to the disgruntled inhabitants of table 5."Hello, hello, and welcome to The King's Hall. What can I get for you today?" I smiled.

I may be terrified of everyone in this building, I may be lost in a new dimension, and I may be surrounded by unsavory individuals from all walks of life, but I will always hold on to the fact that I am a _professional _when it comes to the service industry.

**0-0-0**

I could give you the finer details of my twelve-hour shift at this madhouse, but that would take too long, and be a little boring, so I'll just give you the interesting bits.

**0-0-0**

**2:30 PM**

"I'm telling you, she was a mermaid! Clear as day! She was as gorgeous as a thousand sunsets, her eyes were as clear as sapphires and her beautiful tail glimmered like the sun casting light off the ocean's waves. She was more beautiful than any treasure the seas could ever hold..." The sailor sighed dreamily into his mug, "If I could only see her one more time..."

The buddy to his right, however, didn't seem to agree. "Dugong. You fell in love with a _Dugong_."

"No, I didn't! She was a mermaid! It was obvious!"

"You need to get laid."

"You need to get your eyes checked!"

"It was fat, spotted and it had seaweed or something hanging off its head. I saw it too, you know."

"Not up close!"

"We were at sea for a few months, _I get it._ One tends to get a little blue in the balls, but come on, your denial is getting a little annoying."

"You know, I have tables to clear..." I was sat between them, apparently now a part of their feud.

"How about you settle it between us? Mermaid, or Sea Cow?"

"*sigh* I better get a reasonable tip for this…" The first thing you should know about pirates and sailors in this world? They tip terribly.

"What?"

"I said, I need more information about this."

I held up one hand to the sailor on my right, "On one hand, merfolk exist, and can be just as common as fishmen in certain parts of the Grand Line,"

"HA!" He thumped his mug against the counter in victory,

I held up my other hand to the sailor on my left,

"On the other… Eeeeh, it _is_ commonly thought that during long sea voyages sans contact with the opposite sex- well, people can start seeing lots of things as… a little _too_ attractive to be healthy."

Well, that _is _the reasoning that psychologists give for the existence of mermaids in _my _world, at least…

"Thank you!" The other guy said in exasperation.

"So, for me to guess whether or not it was a Dugong, or a rather *ahem* THICK mermaid, then I would need to know where you were when you encountered them." I made a weighing of the scales motion with either arm, "Because, honestly? Either one of you could be right with the information I was given."

Somehow, the argument only got worse from there. The island that they had moored to get supplies was just skirting the edge of the calm belt (Close enough for a mermaid to swim through and find land), but it was also a known territory for Eastern prism dugongs (A colorful subspecies of the animal). They wound up getting thrown out by Jon when they started knocking over other guest's drinks in their argument.

Guess the world will never know...

**4:00 PM**

It took an eternity, but the lovely people in the kitchen did end up cooking meals for the restaurant staff. Today, Carne, the chef who wore sunglasses indoors, had fixed up some beef curry for the crew.

"Get over here Rookie!"

Oh, sweet mercy of the universe, thank GOD.

"Thank youuu." I nearly wept. I had been on my feet for hours at that point, during which I had to force myself away from wolfing down other people's food multiple times.

Self-control: It's a gift and a curse.

I grabbed a ladle, heaped a large portion of rice in a bowl, then the delicious stew on top of it and began inhaling the food like a vacuum. It was everything a bowl of curry should be: rich, aromatic, spicy, and filled with well-portioned slices of tenderized beef, vegetables, and mushrooms. It was everything I could have asked for from this place and more.

"So, rookie, what spark of insanity drove you to _this_ restaurant?" Carne asked from across the table. A few line cooks chuckled.

Well, honesty is the best policy, "I'm not from around here, I'm homeless, and I'm broke. Anything that keeps me busy, fed, and paid works enough for me." well, honest-ish. Don't need people thinking I'm crazy. I have a good idea of where _that _road leads.

Hell, for all I know, I'm already crazy, and this world is a product of my madness! But God knows that I don't want to touch _that_ line of thought with a ten-foot pole.

"That so? You don't look too bad off to me." Patty said from behind his mouthful of curry.

A fair enough statement, my clothes were clean and untorn. I probably still smelled like soap and sandalwood from the shower I took that morning too. "It was a… recent development." I hedged.

"Aw...Well, as far as jobs go, this one is pretty crappy, but Big Jon will let you sleep here tonight if you agree to take care of the cleanup."

"AND STAY OUT!" ***CRASH* **

oof. There goes another window. Just when the first one was replaced too… "You know, maybe." Patty amended.

"Thanks anyway. I'll do my best until then." I'm no stranger to hard work, I had to juggle multiple jobs at a time just to keep myself in university freshman year. That was all while struggling to maintain a decent GPA. Somehow, working as a waiter in a bar where the patrons would rather shoot me than pay for the food doesn't seem as stressful.

"Can I get seconds?" I held up my empty bowl. I was going to need the energy for tonight.

**8:30 PM**

The tavern was about as busy as it could get at this time of night. I had to push my way through a wall of humanity to take and deliver orders. Occasionally, I even had to wheel out whole 30 gallon kegs to people on a dolly. Patty had to come out of the kitchen to help keep the crowd under control, and there was a night shift guy named Alfonse who had come in a few minutes ago. Apparently, this place was open until 2 in the morning, so I still had yet to see the end in sight of my first shift.

It was around that time that I found myself at the point where things got _fun_. I don't know who started it, but someone began singing, and the rest of the restaurant pitched in to sing an energetic, yet oddly nostalgic song.

"_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Gather up all of the crew!_

_It's time to ship out Bink's brew!_

_Sea wind blows. To where?_

_Who knows?_

_The waves will be our guide!_

A sailor pulled a violin from nowhere, and began to play along with the rest of the bar,

_O'er across the ocean's tide,_

_Rays of sunshine far and wide,_

_Birds they sing of cheerful things, in circles passing by!_

_HEY!_

People began to dance on the tables, their arms draped around the necks of drinking buddies and crewmates alike. The music picked up the pace, becoming even more energetic and lively.

_Bid farewell to weaver's town!_

_Say so long to port renowned!_

_Sing a song, it won't be long, before we're casting off!_

_Cross the gold and silver seas_

_The salty spray puts us at ease!_

_Day and night to our delight,_

_The voyage never ends!_

More people from across the bar pulled out instruments, Brass instruments, string instruments, the rest made a beat by slamming their mugs on the tables. One dude was wailing away on a harmonica in the corner. The bar continued to sing louder and louder, stomping their feet to the tune until their song seemed to be all that existed in this entire world.

_Gather up all of the crew!_

_It's time to ship out Bink's brew!_

_Pirates we, eternally are challenging the sea!_

_With the waves to rest our heads,_

_ship beneath us as our beds!_

_Hoisted high upon the mast our Jolly Roger flies!_

_Somewhere in the endless sky,_

_Stormy winds are blowin' by!_

_Waves are dancing, evening comes,_

_It's time to sound the drums!_

_But steady men may never fear!_

_Tomorrow's skies are always clear!_

_So pound your feet and clap your hands till sunny days return!_

Even the kitchen staff and I had begun to sing along. I forgot most of the words a long time ago, but there was no helping it. Not one person in the entire tavern had decided to stay quiet this night.

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Gather up all of the crew!_

_It's time to ship out Bink's brew!_

_Wave good-bye, but don't you cry_

_Our memories remain!_

_Our days are but a passing dream, everlasting though they seem_

_'neath the moon we'll meet again, the wind's our lullaby!_

The sound was awfully out of tune, but the joy, emotion, and heart that the song seemed to bring out of these sailors made it seem transcendentally beautiful.

_Gather up all of the crew!_

_It's time to ship out Bink's brew!_

_Sing a song and play along_

_For all the ocean's wide!_

_After all is said and done,_

_you'll end up a skeleton!_

_So spread your tale, from dawn till dusk, upon these boney seas!_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho,_

_Yo-hohoho, Yo-hoho-ho!_

The bar exploded into cheers. If every night was like this, then I think that I'm really going to love this place…

**0-0-0**

That was all of the interesting stuff I had encountered that day. In between, it was pretty much the average double shift that I would take from any other restaurant (y' know, ignoring the fact that a handful of people threatened me with guns when I gave them the bill.)

I guess in some ways, no matter where I went, no matter how much was different in this world, there would be some things that always stayed the same. The sun rose in the east, then set in the west, people grew older, and the service industry would always kind of suck. Ce' la vie.

This was my thought process as I was nearing the final hours of my shift for today. I made about 2400 beri in tips tonight. (In American dollars, that's about $24.) to spend in my pocket. I had no clue what I made per hour, though. For all I knew, I made less than minimum wage for my efforts. I have no clue on what the structure of the economy looks like here, but Jon seems like an honest enough guy (outside of his terrifying temper.) I doubt that he would shortchange me when it comes down to it.

"_At least I have a roof tonight…_" I thought as I ran a mop over the alcohol-soaked floor. The drinking population of this town is a rowdy lot, to say the least. They wrecked the place. We had to carry the remains of two broken tables to the dumpster tonight, then board up the remains of the broken window to keep out the thugs after everyone had left.

After I was done with the floor, it was my job to take care of the remnants of tonight's dishes. It wasn't _too_ bad all things considered. I just took care of what the busboys couldn't handle before they left. Mainly, a few pots, pans and assorted implements that the cooks left behind. When I was done with that, I put the chairs on top of the tables, wadded my apron up into a ball that can _almost _be considered a pillow, then curled up on the floor to try and find some sleep.

**0-0-0**

_...Damn it. _

It took about an hour of me laying down on the floor to realize the fact that I couldn't fall asleep. The nervous energy and existential "What the fuck"-ery from this morning came booming back into my mind like a freight train crashing into a building.

_What the hell even happened today, anyway?_ Now that I had a moment to relive everything in my thoughts, it felt like I ran away from something. Whatever it was, it had me so wound up, that it took me several minutes to even see straight again. _Was I able to do this all along?_ That didn't make sense. I was never able to jump worlds before, I mean, come on, that stuff is impossible...

_And yet, here I am, in a world where fish larger than aircraft carriers exist._

I shivered at the thought. Mouk's titanic remains were still a presence on my mind, especially now that I'm alone with my thoughts.

_I'm not sure what's scarier, the fact that those things exist in bulk or the fact that there are people capable of taking them on alone._

It goes without mentioning that a great deal of those people are also dangerous criminals.

… Why did I even think that I could sail out onto the grand line again? I'm just a nobody who's only real applicable skill is being a friendly, service-oriented person. I can't slice through steel with a sword or punch with enough force to shatter concrete. I'm just a guy with average goals from a (comparatively) average world.

_You can learn, though. _A voice- small though it was whispered to me in my head,

"_You're a college student. Most of your day is spent studying while fighting debt anyway. You can learn how to navigate across the ocean. Plenty of books have been written on the topic."_

"_You can find someone that can teach you how to fight. There are plenty of people that would know what to teach you."_

"_You have a TREASURE MAP right? Who knows what you'll find at the X?_ It could be enough gold to buy a fleet!"

_Treasure map, huh…_

I unfolded the grubby roll of paper I picked up earlier today. The mysterious horseshoe island seemed to taunt me with it's implied promise of hidden wealth. "_I have no idea where this is, or how to get there…"_

I can find out, though. Absolutely I could. I can visit the nearest library and see for myself where it is on the globe…

I could save up enough money to charter a ship…

I can rummage around for rumors of strange, swirly fruits…

I let out a heavy sigh.

But why should I? I never had the lofty dream of becoming a pirate king, or anything. Wealth, fame and power are what the One Piece supposedly promises, but I had no real desire for any of the above.

Wealth? I only ever wanted enough money to get me by. Fame? Pfft, god no. Power? Like what, the superpowers gained from devil fruits? I guess it would be a fun novelty, but most of what they were used for was fighting anyway… and I hate hurting people. Period. Can't do it. I turn into an uncontrollable shaky mess afterward. It happened after every stupid fight I've ever been in. It's seeing them cry that gets to me. I can't stand to see people like that, especially when I know I'm responsible.

My dad raised me to love water too, he was a champion swimmer when he was my age, and taught me what he knew himself. (even though I'll never be a third of the athlete that he was.) regardless, I don't like the thought of being unable to swim for the rest of my life, especially in _this _world.

Before I came here, I had a simple plan for life. I was focused on graduating, pursuing my chosen career, finding love and eventually growing old with my own family. Sure it was going to be hard. Life rarely just hands people stuff as special as that. At least it was a simple goal for life, though. I mean, people do it all the time! All those 7.5 billion people had to come from somewhere!

_You're no longer just a simple person, though. Are you? _Said the voice.

After warping to another world, hearing the final words of a man who died 15 years ago, and finding a treasure map on my first day?

_Yeah...Guess not…_

I wouldn't sleep that night.

**A/N: WOO! This chapter took forever to write. I only have Mondays and Wednesdays off, so it takes time to make progress on this thing. It's damn fun though! This is the first time that I've been able to make any tangible progress on a story, so it's a little bit of a personal triumph too. **

**Personally, I'm impressed with the positive reception so far. Thanks for the likes, follows and reviews everyone!**

**The story really starts picking up speed in the next chapter, so stay tuned!**


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